~~~
The backwater bars of the galaxy always smelled the same, the scent of piss and cheap ale rising up from the often basement level pubs like smog. Dahlia had come to enjoy these places, seeing as they existed in every realm, they were as if home followed her. Now, whether backwater pubs feeling like home was a good thing was up for speculation, but was a concern she generally ignored.
Other than ordinarily enjoying not being sober, places like this were prime spots for hunting contracts, especially on Vanaheim's less than lucrative market which drew in smaller but far more simple cases; the most exciting thing you'd usually find in Vanaheim as an assassin were back-alley squabbles and the occasional intimidation job. While small talent gigs generally paid less, there were plenty to be found to make up for the lack of effort they required, as well as the pay difference.
"Hey Daffodil," a scruffy-looking Vanir manning the rugged bar chuffed, waiting to continue until she met his eyes.
"It's Dahlia."
"Yeah yeah, Dandelion. Look, you've been here for hours and ordered one drink. If you keep holding up the bar I'm gonna have to ask you to switch to a table or somethin."
Dahlia just waved the man off, flicking a gold piece across the counter in annoyance. The bartender grumbled, slapping a meaty hand over the coin and dragging it away. "Better keep ordering," the Vanir groused as he sloshed another tankard her way, nearly hitting her in the chest with the cheap ale within. Dahlia shot him a glare, catching it right before it could ruin her currently dry clothes.
"I'm waiting for contracts. I'll order when I order."
"Contracts, aye?" the bartender huffed, dropping a few glasses into a tub of gray day-old dishwater. "There's a Sakaarian that dropped off a datalink looking for someone to take up a job. People've been rejecting it for days. I haven't seen it but it seems like it pays well. I'll forward the contract your way," he hummed, nodding towards the datapad on her arm before tapping something behind the counter.
Dahlia looked down at her arm as the device beeped, tapping the notification that popped up on its surface. Of the many contracts Dahlia had been offered, this one was by far the only one with that many zeros in the pay bar. Unsurprisingly, the zeros had been the first thing she'd seen, instilling a giddy bit of excitement in her; with this kind of money, she'd be able to retire at the ripe old age of nine hundred and thirty-four. Well, retire for the next thousand years or so. Sadly, the next thing she saw was the name a few lines above that wonderfully long series of numbers, Loki Laufeyson. By instinct Dahlia almost hit reject immediately, stopping herself halfway through the motion; those were a lot of zeros.
"Who'd you say offered the contract?" the Asgardian asked, tearing her eyes from the name long enough to meet the Vanir's eyes. He just shrugged, beginning to wipe the counter with a dirty rag.
"Some Sakaarian. Didn't leave a name. That serious huh? The rest of em just rejected and left in a tizzy. Gave a generous tip." Dahlia could hear the tone in his voice with the last part, feeling the directed intent he put behind it. He continued when she didn't react. "I don't read the contracts on principle, but whatever's on there gotta be pretty serious to spook off so many of you folks."
The Asgardian just hummed, downing her drink quickly and standing from her stool and turning to leave. "Thanks. Though I'd start reading your contracts if I were you. You'd get tried for treason if anyone with any common sense found out this kind of contract cycled through here." The bartender just shrugged and went back to wiping the counter, apparently having heard similar before.
Stepping out of the dank pub Dahlia made her way up the steps and over to where she'd hitched her horse, untying the large stallion and swinging into the saddle. Once the pair had left the village proper Dahlia zoned out into her datapad, eyes locked between the zeros and the name. In truth, she was tempted to ask Átthagi what he thought of the job. She knew the horse had no answers, but he'd been along for so many of her money-guided escapades she was sure if he could talk he'd have something to say about the matter.
On one hand, she was Asgardian, and a well-trained one at that; she'd have easier access to the palace than most. On another, she was Asgardian; if she did this, she'd never be able to go back home again. Of course, that point was moot given just how many zeros were in that pay bar. She wouldn't really need to come back to Asgard with that much money in her pockets. That didn't really cover just how far Asgard would extend its power to find her should she kill their prince. Then again, this was Loki.
Dahlia hadn't been home in years, favoring the other realms to fill her time and her pockets as compared to the dreariness of Asgard. For some of the other races, Asgard seemed like a paradise of plenty, filled with bountiful feasts and general prosperity. While all of this was reality, Asgard never seemed to change much. Yes, there was an occasional royal scandal or other realmly rabble-rousers, the planet itself was stuck in endless repetition and had been since the fall of Hela. While the peace was nice, Asgard was no home for someone like her.
She sighed, looking at the datapad again. Fuck it, she thought, pushing the green-hied accept button. She might as well go out with a bang with billions of units on the line than die in some back-alley dump.
~~~
As little as Dahlia returned to her home planet, she always felt a sense of nostalgic relief when she ported each time. The generosity of the Asgardian people never ceased to amaze her from the moment she stepped foot in the city all the way up until her ship left it's airspace. It was a delightful feeling each time seeing as it felt new on each visit she took.
Handing off Átthagi to a stable hand, the Asgardian made her way through the city's central marketplace, sparing a few gold pieces for a basket of fruit and a small bushel of dahlia stems to bring home to her mother. After roaming the city for an hour or so Dahlia finally found herself in front of her childhood home with a half empty basket that once held an assortment of fruits. Now, the basket only held yellow apples and oranges, the grapes and bananas having been taken from its small stock, having been replaced by the bushel of flowers from the market.
Not bothering to knock, Dahlia gently opened the door to the modest house, being very quickly assailed by five small balls of fury and love, all wrapping small arms and legs around her appendages. She laughed, shuffling over to the dining room table to set down the basket before hoisting the closest child up to face level.
"Well well," Dahlia hummed, turning her little brother to and fro as if analyzing him for worth. "This little goblin seems sub-par. Look at his cute little tummy and chubby cheeks. He'll never do for my goblin army!" The little boy squealed and giggled as she poked at his stomach and pinched at his cheeks, holding his weight on her propped up knee. The boy wriggled from her grasp, scrambling to hide behind the leg of his second oldest sister who simply laughed at the shenanigans that always followed upon Dahlia's arrival.
"Sister! You've come home," her sister laughed, shooing the rest of their siblings off of her sister to bring her in for a hug. Dahlia gratefully accepted, squeezing Miralin tightly before holding her at arms length to get a good look at her.
"Oh how you've grown!" she gasped, running a hand down her sister's face and through her deep oak brown hair. "You're even more gorgeous than when I last left. You get it from my side don't you know!" Miralin just laughed pulling away to pick up one of their little sisters to cradle her against her hip. It was then that their mother practically soared into the room, wrapping herself around her eldest child with all the love a mother could give.
"Dahlia! My beautiful flower! How healthy and youthful you look here in your home again," she crooned, not releasing her grip until she spotted the basket of goodies sitting on the table a few feet away. "Oh! You've brought us gifts!" Dahlia laughed, watching her mother hold the bushel to her nose to breath in their sweet smell deeply.
"I brought you fruit as well. Your two favorites." She turned to her smaller siblings, all huddled around Miralin. "And don't think I've forgotten about you, my little goblins." Dahlia slung her small pack around to her from, undoing the latch and rifling through the bag's contents only to pull out a handful of small rods, each of which she handed to the five little monsters who were eager to take them. She was just about to explain their function when the youngest popped a button into place on the hilt and the miniature staff shot out to it's full three foot length, smacking one of the other children in the face. Both kids laughed it off, all five of them soon beating the Hel out of each other with their gifts.
"You spoil them love," her mother chuckled, watching her children beat the shit out of each other. Dahlia laughed, crossing her hands over her chest while she watched them.
"I always wonder how you've managed to raise such savages." Dahlia looked to Miralin, standing so petite and pretty in a pastel pink sundress, watching her siblings. She looked at her with admiration and pride, happy to see her sister becoming an adult. She had many many many years left, but she was a blooming rose and it showed. "Well, all but one." Miralin turned, giving Dahlia a bright grin before shooing the kids out of the dining room and outside onto the grass to continue playing with their gifts. Her mother turned to her, grabbing both of her hands before sitting across from her at the table.
"Alright. Tell me of your most recent travels my dear."
~~~
The pair talked until her father had come home, children clinging to his legs or beating the backs of his knees with staffs when he made his way inside to greet his daughter.
"Dahlia!" the man guffawed, overjoyed as he embraced his eldest in a tight hug. Pushing away the urge to swing her father around, she returned the forceful embrace with matching energy. "We must feast, mustn't we?" her father crooned, pulling away to turn towards their pantries. Searching, he huffed in mild annoyance. "Scrap it!" he bellowed, gathering the eyes of his family. "We shall feast with the whole block shan't we!?! It is a celebration after all! Our eldest is home, at least for now. I shall gather our neighbors!"
No one could protest as they watched him scurry from the house in an overjoyed frenzy, hearing him yell Dahlia's name up and down the road. The family only chuckled, the three eldest women all gathering food from the house's stock and laying them out for whatever grand feast her father had envisioned in his joy.
~~~
Laughter echoed around the cobblestone square, drunken song and dance highlighting the celebration that had been so promptly put together. Dahlia had greeted almost every person she'd ever known as a child in a matter of hours, joyful reunions and happy meetings extending beyond her temporary return to spilling into lifetime and bonds and friendships reigniting with the swelling mood that encircled the party.
"You'd think we'd won a war with a celebration like this," Miralin half yelled into her ear, making the assassin jump slightly before laughing it off.
"Yes. I don't quite know how father manages to do this every time I come home." Miralin just smiled, resting her forehead against her sister's shoulder and sighing.
"It's all so beautiful," she nearly purred, fulfilled with her sister being home again at last. Dahlia nodded, mussing a hand through Miralin's hair, making the younger girl grumble and attempt to straighten the now wild hairs.
"Indeed it is my sister, indeed it is."